Independance Day: Downtime
by iamQuoz
Summary: The harvester queen had been vanquished and the sphere was secure. Finally some time to relax and to finally catch their collective breaths. Floyd could hardly believe that he'd survived, but he put off those thoughts for now. He sat on a soft patch of soil out near where he'd defended Area 51 with Warlord Umbutu just a bit earlier.


Dikembe Umbutu -Congolese Warlord

Floyd Rosenberg -Government Accountant

Independence Day: Downtime

The harvester queen had been vanquished and the sphere was secure. Finally some time to relax and to finally catch their collective breaths.

Floyd could hardly believe that he'd survived, but he put off those thoughts for now. He sat on a soft patch of soil out near where he'd defended Area 51 with Warlord Umbutu just a bit earlier. Umbutu sat with him, watching as Floyd contemplated the gun he'd been handed.

"Do you think they'll let me keep this?" He asked, breaking the comfortable silence.

"You have the heart of a warrior." Umbutu said, seemingly out of nowhere.

Floyd looked pleased but was somewhat shocked. "That's the nicest thing anybody's ever said to me."

Umbutu shrugged, "You remember that I brought that blaster -you have- with me from Congo? The one they gave you was taken back by the doctor."

"Are you asking for it back?" Floyd asked smiling, "Or-"

"I am saying that if anyone here tries to take that blaster from you they'll have to go through me as well."

"Neat. Best present ever." Floyd smiled with unbounded glee, "Thanks man..." Floyd canted his head slightly, "So... odd question. What do I call you? Dikembe... Umbutu... I'm not sure which of your names I'm supposed to call you."

"When talking to me you may call me Dikembe, but introduce me as Warlord Umbutu to those who don't know me if I should come up." Dikembe angled slightly more towards Floyd, "What name do I call you by? I remember Director Levinson called you Rosenberg, but I'm not sure I remember if you were addressed by any other name?"

"You can call me Floyd."

Dikembe stuck out his right hand. "Apologies Floyd." He said, his pronunciation of Floyd's name slightly clumsy but getting there, "I judged you quite wrongly during our first meeting and I mistook your enthusiasm as- misplaced."

Floyd took his hand and shook it, "Well to be fair to you, before today I hadn't ever had any real experience fighting with weapons." Floyd withdrew his hand and shrugged, "By the way, that alien mind thing? That looked super painful, I was scared that you'd somehow got struck by a laser or something..."

"And I was very concerned how, at first, the sphere seemed to be 'eating you' the hive mind fears it after all... and so too do I. It is the shade of their fear, but I cannot shake it."

"Maybe you're just anxious, because I know I am."

"I do not know this word, 'anxious'."

"Uh. Unsure about the future? Worried about could happen- but like a background baseline feeling?" Floyd shrugged, "Wanting something to do...also? It's a complicated feeling."

Dikembe nodded, "Anxious sounds like what I am feeling."

They again lapsed into a comfortable silence, both casually watching Area 51 personnel scurry about to clean and collect the shield generators. The school bus still sat where it had been nearly crushed. The children had long since been placed in the bases' mess hall, both Dikembe and Floyd were glad to see that the kids looked more or less okay.

Suddenly a nearby radio crackled to life. "Hello- uh this is Julius Levinson. Director Levinson's father- er one of the kids is missing his backpack, could someone check the bus and let me know if you find one on it? Uh- over."

Floyd exchanged a glance with Dikembe "Well I was planning a trip to the mess hall anyway, you want to come with me?"

Dikembe nodded, "It will be interesting to see what they have for food on this base."

Floyd grabbed the radio and they headed over towards the bus. The backpack was quickly located under one of the back seats and one of the kids' rabbit hats lay on a nearby seat as well.

"Floyd to Julius, come in Julius."

"Yeah- Julius here."

"Located backpack and a hat, you guys are still in the mess hall right? Over."

"Yes we're still there...over."

"Headed your way, over and out."

They handed the backpack and hat to Julius upon entering the mess hall, he grinned and handed the stray articles to the kids that they belonged to.

"Thanks, I guess I should have thought to do a final check, but with all that's been happening I guess it completely slipped my mind."

"Of course, glad to help. Anything good to eat around here?"

Julius sighed, "Military rations and MRE's mostly."

Floyd contemplated a nearby set of three vending machines. He quirked an eyebrow, "Well, I've got an idea. Dikembe would you help me move these machines away from the wall?"

"Yes of course."

Once the machines had been moved forward Floyd set to fiddling with the bottom of the first one, "Thanks, now lets see here—yup. You'd think an Area 51 base vending machine would be more secure than your average one. Nope, totally a commercial model."

The vending machine whirred to life and started turning each spiral in quick succession. Bags of chips and various other treats rained down into the collection area.

"Tada!" Floyd said grinning widely, "Don't go overboard or anything though don't want to be responsible for any tummy aches." Floyd then moved on to the drinks machine.

Julius laughed, "How'd you learn to do that?"

"Well, I've got a broad electrical knowledge and programming know-how. It was one of the requirements for me being Director Levinson's accountant. Gotta have someone to simplify the technology expense account for the military higher ups."

The kids were happy clamoring over the pile of goodies and collecting drinks grinning and laughing. The eldest of the kids remembered her manners by turning to Floyd and thanking him. The other kids chimed in with a flurry of thank you's and yeah's nodding happily.

"No problem, glad to help. Hey pass me a package of funyons?"

One of the myriad of kids tossed him a bag of the fried onions.

"You a fan of onions Dikembe?"

"Yes?"

"Toss a bag to him too."

Another bag was thrown, but this time to Dikembe.

"They're battered and fried onions. Try them and tell me what you think."

Dikembe opened the bag and sniffed tentatively at the contents. Extracting one he brought it to his mouth and tossed it in.

He chewed slowly and nodded, "It is very unusual. You Westerners put a lot of salt on your foods however, is there a water bottle that I might have?"

The elder blond girl walked up and handed Dikembe a water bottle. "Here you go sir."

"Thank you." Dikembe said simply.

Suddenly Director Levinson was at the door to the mess hall, "Hey Dad- Uh Rosenberg... kids. Warlord... Umbutu."

"Hello David," Julius greeted his son with a hug that was shyly received, "What did they say about when we can leave here?"

David wobbled his hands in a so-so gesture. "We're still working on re-establishing the communication networks, it could take a while before we can get ourselves organized enough to wrangle the kids' parents."

The group cast glances at the kids collected around the far table in the corner munching on their snacks.

"For now I guess they'll have to stay here. We'll have a better time getting them some real food in Area 51 after the dust settles a little."

"Good. I guess we should figure out where they'll sleep then."

"There's some barracks a ways off from the main barracks. Should be space for them there."

Julius nodded, "Okay kids we'll be heading off. Follow us to the barracks we gotta to get you guys some rest."

The kids muttered their agreements and started collecting their respective things.

Floyd turned towards Dikembe, "Are you headed back to Congo anytime soon?"

"Not tonight, the pilots are in need of rest, and the planes we do have are in need of refuel or repair. I will have to remain here for now."

"Right yeah- I guess I should have figured." Floyd scratched the back of his head as he watched the kids file out of the mess hall.

"Maybe we should follow them, so we know where the barracks are?"

Dikembe nodded, "And we should also help make sure the children are looked after as well."

"Yeah, that many kids is bound to be something even Area 51 isn't really equipped to deal with." Floyd brought up the rear of the line of kids with Dikembe following right behind him.

— — — — — — — — — —

The school bus kids, the ones that had originally been with the bus that is, had numbered 22 before Julius had joined them with the three kids he'd traveled with. 25 kids was a lot to keep tabs on, but Floyd gladly teamed up with Dikembe to help Julius with the task.

Soon the number began to dwindle as families or relatives of the kids were located. Two weeks passed with Floyd beginning to wonder when Dikembe would leave back to his kingdom (is it called a kingdom if his official title is warlord?)

He didn't want him to leave, so he didn't ask. Dikembe called him his 'Warrior Brother' and ate every meal with him. Floyd would miss looking after the gaggle of kids, which he lovingly thought of as the jackrabbits because of their hats.

He'd especially miss Dikembe, his cool and aloof demeanor was the sort any action hero would be proud to sport. Basically he was too cool for him to be associating with a nerdy government accountant like Floyd.

Those tallies on his arm and machetes on his back were pretty badass too.

One morning a few days after the last of the jackrabbits now being looked after by family Floyd worried that he'd be left behind in Area 51 with very little that he could do that he was qualified for.

Floyd sat sullenly in a corner of the former barracks and pondered this. Maybe he should follow Dikembe to Congo?

Julius appeared at the door to the room and brightened upon spotting him.

"Floyd, there you are."

"Hey Julius. What's up?"

"Umbutu was looking for you? Something about The Congo?"

"Oh?"

"Yeah he was looking for a ride or something, he's in the main hanger- he asked if anyone had seen you."

"So he hasn't left yet?"

"Like he'd leave without saying goodbye to you?" Julius laughed, "You two have practically been joined at the hip these past few weeks."

Floyd shrugged, "I guess you're right, thanks for finding me."

Floyd stood and strode out of the room.

The entire walk to the main hanger filled Floyd with a mounting dread. Was this goodbye? He supposed that it was long past time for Dikembe to head home to Congo (he was the warlord after all).

The main hanger was a livelier bustle than it been the previous week, now that communication channels had been re-established, there were now ways to organize the supplies that needed to get ferried about.

Honestly Floyd wasn't really up on the latest thing that Area 51 had decided on. There should be more meetings, or maybe there could at least be a memo?

Dikembe was always easy to spot in almost any room, tall and looming. So Floyd found him easily.

"Hey, heard you were looking for me?"

"Yes Floyd, it is high time for me to return home. I would like it very much if you would accompany me."

"I-I uh, sure yeah- that'd be awesome..."

"What bothers you?"

"I-I don't think I'd really fit in. I mean: 'Dangly, pale, bespectacled English man." He said pointing at himself derisively, "Yeah that totally the guy who would fit into a tribal(?) African warrior culture. He'll fit right in."

Dikembe rested his hand on Floyd's shoulder, "You would make an excellent addition. As an ambassador to the western world and and English teacher if nothing else. Though you're a warrior if ever I saw one."

"Ah. That's a good point actually. About the ambassador to the Western world I mean." Floyd shrugged, "After all Dr. Marceaux is staying here to figure out the sphere."

"Indeed, the good doctor did act as our ambassador for a while." Dikembe said nodding, "But even if she were wanting to return with me, I still would have requested you come."

"Well, okay." Floyd said smiling widely, "When are we leaving?"

"The pilot is ready now."

"Awesome. Let's go then."

— — — — — — — — —

The Congolese people seemed a little put off by Floyd, but eventually settled their concerns after getting used to him.

Well, for the most part.

Dikembe's council of fellow warriors shot looks at Floyd and grumbled derogatory things in their native tongue behind his back. They had only tolerated the female doctor because she only was interested in her studies of the aliens' language.

She had never overstepped her welcome by being so foolish as to correct their English! He should be more respectful.

Dikembe overheard these men from time to time, wanting very much to throttle them the first few, and growing increasingly more worried with the frequency of the complaints. Could his council not see Floyd's worth?

They mocked his name and his pale skin, called him weak to his face!

Dikembe felt troubled, maybe if they could see Floyd as the warrior that he was underneath the layer of their own underestimation?

Floyd didn't seem to let it get to him, he'd known there would be some push-back. In truth he'd expected a lot more derision from the council of elders.

It wasn't until a conflict with a group of harvester aliens, that Floyd was able to prove himself. (pod... swarm? What's the collective term for the harvester aliens?)

Floyd only had minor abrasive cuts whereas other established warriors said they owed their lives to Floyd as he had provided much needed cover. The warriors said of him, 'Calm, and vigilant. Seemingly seeing enemies mere moments before their attacks.'

This quieted the descent from the elders, finally, Floyd had secured the reputation of a warrior amongst his people.

"Of all the things you've got to worry about on a daily basis, the aliens are almost the most predictable." Floyd murmured, "I think this pocket of them must have gotten desperate to ambush us though. They've mostly stayed hidden and stuck at night on small groups or lone travelers."

"Yes... or children." Dikembe offered somberly.

"They- the children aren't allowed to leave the secured perimeter until the last of the aliens' are cleared out." Floyd said confused, "There hasn't been a kid attacked since I've gotten here, and it's going to stay that way if I've got any say in it!"

Dikembe sighed. "Before, with my Father in charge— he said that children had to be trained from an early age to be warriors— to learn to fight on their own." Dikembe slowly gestured to his younger brothers' photo on the wall.

"Oh." Floyd said simply, "I see."

"When I took over, I vowed to avenge my younger brother." Dikembe shook his head, "a part of me wonders if we've really made a dent if that was only one of the harvester queens."

"Well the sphere did say no one had ever killed a harvester queen before," Floyd noted, "so we've showed the resistance that it's at least possible."

Dikembe nodded, "It is a start."

— — — — — — — — — — —

A year passed, and the aliens left on earth were estimated to be less than 100 worldwide. Absolutely none left in all of Congo or in the surrounding countries thanks to the sizable efforts of the warriors and citizenry.

There were celebrations being planned all over, one year anniversary of the defeat of the harvester queen, and the Twenty-first anniversary of the original attack's win.

"Floyd. Warrior brother?" Dikembe was puzzled, Floyd had not made it to breakfast that morning, it wasn't like him to sleep in. Today was special— they were supposed to celebrate the anniversary of the win together after all.

Dikembe knocked on Floyd's door, "Are you in there?" A light groan emanated from behind the door.

Floyd opened the door slightly, "Good morning Dikembe— sorry I slept in, but I was just so comfortable this morning."

The door shifted slightly revealing a bare chested Floyd, "I figured if I couldn't sleep in— today of all days— when could I?" Floyd chuckled at his own joke, very much unaware of the assessing look that Dikembe was sweeping over his bare chest.

"What?" Floyd said, having finally noticed Dikembe had yet to say anything. Upon realizing he was being stared at Floyd began to shrink back and he nervously placed his arms in front of his chest.

"Uh— I'll just go get dressed -now."

Dikembe silently entered the room and closed the door behind him, "No need to dress yourself on my account— you have no need to be ashamed of your bare chest."

Dikembe noted the tally marks on Floyd's left arm. The small black lines on his upper arm, standing in a stanch contrast to the pale skin, were very far above where his tan line started.

"You would even hide your tally?"

Floyd shrugged, "Well, sort of?" He shrugged shyly, "It makes sense to start at the top of the arm and work down it... I sun burn easy, so long sleeves are just to be practical."

Dikembe took a step toward Floyd and traced the small tallies with his right hand, "You have made great progress this past year," he counted out the tally in his head, "You are nearing a count of seventy."

Floyd arm was smooth to Dikembe's rough callused hand as he clasped his hand over his shoulder. Floyd still wasn't looking Dikembe in the eye. Dikembe realized that Floyd was shaking slightly.

"Why are you shaking?" Dikembe asked confused. It was not cold in the room... maybe Floyd had caught a chill, and that was the true reason for him sleeping in.

Floyd's eyes darted around, only briefly meeting Dikembe's gaze. However, it was enough for the seasoned warlord to recognize fear and uncertainty.

"What troubles you?"

Floyd sighed, "Didn't sleep well last night if I'm honest, the one year anniversary is technically only because the twentieth anniversary was interrupted by another invasion." Floyd's gaze finally settled on Dikembe, "The aliens seem to really like attacking on significant dates...is what I'm saying."

Dikembe nodded, "This is true, but the downed alien ships do not stir— and I feel nothing of the hive mind."

Floyd offered a watery smile, but the first genuine one he'd offered that morning.

Something shifted between them, and a very fragile— very small— moment hung in the air. A moment that was more of a feeling. A feeling, one year and many battles in the making.

A warlord of Congo, fighting since birth, for his brother— fighting against his fathers decisions about the recruitment of children.

A pale British man, former government accountant, who went from working in liaison with the military to fighting alongside the military. Then chosen to become the Congo's ambassador to the West.

The differences of their backgrounds and cultures were too many. The moment—the feeling— was surely too fragile.

But.

Where others might have faltered. Where so many other possibilities branched from the conclusion of this conversation... so much easier possibilities with less far reaching consequences...

Both Dikembe and Floyd simultaneously reached into the feeling and listed in the direction of the other.

The kiss was short and chaste, barely a brush of their lips.

It shook both men to their cores. The kiss changed everything.

It was a silent admission of what had been growing between them in the past year, and was perhaps more fragile than the moment previous.

Neither man said anything, the only sound in the room was their breathing.

Then Floyd tilted his head to the side, imploring Dikembe with a seeking question in his look.

Floyd then purposely surged forward and kissed Dikembe.

Dikembe's hands grasped at Floyd. The right hand gripping his shoulder harder, and his left hand found itself at the small of Floyd's back.

They lost themselves to the moment. Their pasts and titles were no longer barriers between them. Or, maybe, they never really were any barriers— other than the shallow ones, imagined and then taught by society.

When they finally broke apart Floyd smiled self-deprecatingly, "You could do a LOT better than me. I can't be worth all the problems that I know—"

Dikembe silenced him with a deep kiss.

He parted only a sliver of distance between their mouths to reply, "I still do not understand how you do not see your own worth. I made the mistake of not seeing it when we first met, and since having been proved to be wrong I have had to fight to make others see it."

Dikembe kissed him again, even more deeply than the last time. Passion ramping up with each kiss, with his hands and arms set to holding Floyd close.

Another pause as Dikembe continued his line of thought.

"Now I will fight to make sure that you see." Dikembe clasped Floyd's face with his right hand, "I will see to it that you no longer have cause to so disparage -the man— I have found cause to love."

"L-love?" Floyd was both visibly elated and shocked in equal measure. How could a Congolese Warlord possibly-?

He wasn't Warlord Umbutu to him- no, he'd long since been just simply, Dikembe.

Floyd smiled wide and surged forward into Dikembe's proffered kiss


End file.
